


Enter the Unknown

by Louieiguess



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louieiguess/pseuds/Louieiguess
Summary: When Rusty finally braves the wilderness, he doesn't get nearly the welcome he anticipated. But, maybe there's a place for him somewhere else in the forest...
Relationships: Firestar&Bluestar (Warriors), Firestar&Oakheart (Warriors), Firestar&Silverstream (Warriors)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I always have an AU brewing in my head, and this is the only one I've actually written down. Chapters will be released on Thursdays, and allegiances can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22484545   
> Enjoy!

The scent of the forest pushed through the trees and to Rusty, sat upon a post in his housefolk’s fence that marked the borders of his garden. It was a favorite spot of his, as it provided him a view of the neighboring cats’ gardens, as well as an unobstructed view of the thick forest just beyond his own.

The rain that had plagued the sky had finally let up, leaving behind only petrichor and dew that clung to his ginger fur like especially persistent burrs. The night was clear, the moon hanging over him like a single white eye. Persistent wind seemed to be pulling at his fur, beckoning him into the forest. 

His owners was calling out to him, encouraging to return to the warmth of the house, where he could climb into their lap and be gentled with kind words and thoughtful touches.

He jumped down on the side of the fence favoring the woods, his collar jingling as he did.

“Where are you off to, Rusty?”

The ginger cat lifted his head and looked back up to the fence. A black and white cat sat there, peering down at him. “Hello, Smudge.” He greeted the other housecat cordially.

“You’re not going into the woods, are you?” Smudge asked, his voice laced with concern.

Rusty twitched his ear. “I’m only going in for a look.” He assured, looking back towards the trees thoughtfully.

“You wouldn’t catch me in there!” Smudge said boisterously, his balancing on the fence ungraceful at best. “It’s dangerous in there. Henry said he went into the woods once.”

Rusty whipped his head around. “That fat old tabby never went into the woods!” He scoffed. “He’s hardly been past his own garden since his trip to the vet. All he ever does is eat and sleep.” He said disdainfully.

Smudge shook his head. “No, really!” He insisted. “He caught a robin in here.”

“Then it was before his trip to the vet.” Rusty shot back. “Now he  _ complains _ that birds disturb his dozing.”

“Well, anyways,” Smudge continued regardless of the scorn in Rusty’s voice. “He said there’s all sort of dangerous animals in there. Huge wildcats that eat rabbits for breakfast, and sharpen their claws on old bones!” He said emphatically, sitting back on his haunches and curling his lips in a snarl, lifting his forepaws and extending his claws.

Rusty licked his chest. “I won’t stay long enough for them to find me, then.” He answered. “Just a look around.”

Smudge dropped his paws. “Okay~ don’t say I didn’t warn you, Rusty.” He said, hopping back into his garden. Rusty heard the door slide open and shut. 

Rusty gave his chest another nervous lick before daring to tread further into the forest, his paw pads prickling with nerves. He wondered how much of Smudge’s gossip was true. He’d met a stray or two, and none of them had ever said anything about giant forest cats.

A tiny body scurrying across the forest floor distracted his thoughts. He instinctively dropped into a crouch and prowled forward, watching for fallen leaves and brittle twigs as he approached. A little animal, nibbling on a seed.  _ A mouse. _

He wriggled his haunches, closing his eyes in panic, waiting for his bell to jingle. It didn’t. He inhaled, preparing to pounce.

Leaves and twigs cracked made him jump. His head snapped up, his bell jingling and the mouse scurrying away into the undergrowth. Rusty looked about frantically, mouse forgotten.  _ Giant wildcats. _ He thought nervously.

More crunching behind him.  _ Eat live rabbits for breakfast. _ Rusty was holding his breath, his heart pounding hard enough that he could hear it in his ears, feel it in his throat. He stalked closer cautiously, his ears flattening when the crunching became rapid. He knew in an instant he was in danger, even before the creature hit him like an explosion. Claws dug into his fur and rolled him into a clump of nettles. He yowled in pain as the leaves stung his skin through his fur, and claws dug into his shoulders. 

He was exposed, he knew, with his back down and belly up. He inhaled sharply and pulled his hind legs towards him, kicking his attacker’s belly with all the strength he could muster.

The other cat grunted and staggered away. Rusty took the opportunity to turn tail and flee towards his fence, towards the safety of his garden. The undergrowth behind him crashed and rustled; his attacker was giving chase. His scratches stung and his heart was beating louder, if such a thing was possible. But he would not be taken by surprise a second time. Growling, Rusty spun around.

He got his first good look at his attacker, then. A fluffy-pelted grey kitten with cheek ruffs that hung off of his broad face. The other tom’s eyes widened and he scrambled to a halt, hitting Rusty at full pelt and knocking him off balance. The two of them struggled in a frenzy of claws.

_ “Enough!” _

Both Rusty and the grey kitten froze. The wildcat scrambled away from Rusty, looking towards the forest with his ears back. Sluggishly, Rusty found his paws and hauled himself up. Two cats were emerging from beneath the thick canopy of the forest: a large yellow-golden tom and a slighter blue she-cat.

His pulse didn’t slow. He couldn’t fight all three of them. He couldn’t retreat to his garden. But he certainly wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of showing fear. “You shouldn’t be so near the twolegplace, Greypaw.” The golden cat rebuked.

Rusty saw the grey kitten crouch, his yellow eyes wide. “I’m sorry, Lionheart.”

“Who is this?” Asked the she-cat, her blue eyes narrowed as she studied Rusty. There was no malice in her voice or face. Only intrigue. She was magnificent: lighter fur streaked her muzzle, and an ugly scar parted the fur between her shoulders.

Greypaw straightened. “An intruder.” He reported. “Stealing prey.”

“He’s little more than a kit.” Lionheart said. His meow was deep, nearly a purr as he spoke. “Was it necessary to sharpen your claws on him?”

Greypaw flattened his ears. “Tigerclaw said that we have to challenge any trespassing cat.”

The she-cat didn’t turn her clear gaze from Rusty as she said meaningfully: “I’ve never seen a kittypet turn and fight before.” She tilted her head. “You would’ve caught that mouse, had you not hesitated for so long.”

Rusty blinked. “R-really?”

Lionheart shook his head. “Bluefur, this is a kittypet, hunting in ThunderClan territory.” He said. “We need to send him home to his twolegs.”

“Send me home?” Rusty blurted, devastated by Lionheart’s dismissal. Bluefur had noticed him, had been watching him even before Greypaw had attacked him. But she had turned her head, prepared to speak with the larger tom. “But I’ve just come to hunt for a mouse or two. I’m sure there’s enough to go around.”

Her sharp blue eyes turned on him, and Rusty knew at once, that was the wrong thing to say.

“There is never enough to go around!” She snarled, all but looming over him. Rusty lowered his head nervously. Lionheart had stepped up beside the gray she-cat and was staring down at him as well. “Our prey is stolen by other clans, by rogues, by loners, and by kittypets! You come here with your full belly for a rush of excitement. We hunt to feed ourselves.” Her eyes flashed. “For our kits, and our elders.”

Rusty averted his stare for a moment, his skin almost hurting from the force of her stare. “I’m... sorry.” He said shakily. “I didn’t mean... I don’t want to threaten your clan... I won’t hunt here again.”

Bluefur’s snarl dropped immediately and she waved her tail for Lionheart and Greypaw to step backwards. “You’re a very unusual kittypet.” She said. “I will escort him back to his den.” She said, looking over her shoulder at the toms. “I’ll be at camp soon.”

“Bluefur...” Lionheart warned not unkindly.

Waving her tail, Bluefur dipped her head to Rusty. “Come along, young one.” She instructed, leading the way along the forest path, back towards Rusty’s garden. Rusty looked over his shoulder to see Lionheart and Greypaw padding back into the forest.

“I really am sorry.” Rusty said, looking at Bluefur.

Bluefur twitched her ear. “I know you are.” She said, glancing back at him. “What is your name?”

“Oh, Rusty.” He introduced himself. “I have always wondered what it would be like in the forest... the cats in my neighborhood say that massive wildcats live in here, but I just thought it was a story to keep kittens out.” He rambled. “Do you... do you eat bones, Bluefur?”

Bluefur purred with laughter. “I prefer bones with prey still on them.” She answered as they broke through the treeline.

Rusty’s fence loomed over them. Bluefur was looking at him expectantly, but he hesitated. He wanted her company for longer. He wanted to ask her about her life in the forest, about her clan. “How many cats are in your clan, Bluefur?” He asked.

“Enough.” The she-cat said. “Our territory supports us, but there’s no prey left over.”

“And you all share your prey? And live together?” He asked, thinking guiltily of his life indoors, of thinking it would be harmless to take a single mouse from the forest.

Bluefur nodded. 

Rusty shifted his paws. “Do you... think I could join you?”

A shadow fell over Bluefur’s eyes. “No, Rusty.” She said, her voice oddly apologetic. “I think you would be a fine warrior, but our leader wouldn’t allow it.”

Rusty flattened his ears.

Bluefur studied him. “How about, I meet you here after the night of the full moon.” She suggested.

Rusty perked up. “Really?”

“It should be harmless enough.” She shrugged. “Now go home, Rusty. I’ll see you soon.”

Rusty nodded excitedly. “That’s great. Okay, well... goodnight, Bluefur.” He said, springing up onto his fence.

Bluefur smiled up at him. “Goodnight, Rusty. Keep your paws out of the forest.” She said before turning and vanishing into the undergrowth.

Rusty wondered if he would ever manage to get to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Rusty pushed past the cat flap and into the garden. Smudge was on the fence that divided their gardens, balancing along it as he followed Rusty along the length of the lawn and onto the fence. “Good morning, Rusty.” He said cheerfully. “You should’ve been awake an hour ago; there were some baby sparrows stretching their wings in the tulip tree.”

Rusty looked at the thin-limbed tree. “Did you catch any?”

Smudge shrugged. “I couldn’t be asked. Anymeow, why weren’t  _ you _ out earlier? I remember a certain someone being real prickly about Henry sleeping all day, and yet here you are.”

“I was in the woods last night.” Rusty reminded his friend. Adrenaline flooded him, his claws itching as he remembered fighting with Greypaw.

Smudge perked his ears. “Right! I forgot all about that. What happened? Did you catch anything? Did anything catch  _ you?” _

“I met some wildcats.” Rusty said.

“Really? Did you get into a fight?” Smudge probed, crossing the fence to stand nearer. 

Rusty nodded.

“Did they hurt you? What happened?” He insisted, his amber eyes wide. Rusty noted how much softer they were in comparison Greypaw’s, or even Lionheart’s.

“There were three of them. And they were... they were  _ huge! _ Bigger than any of us neighborhood cats.” Rusty said, still awed by Lionheart’s size, and even Bluefur, smaller than Lionheart, had towered over Rusty.

Smudge’s eyes widened further. “You fought  _ all _ of them?”

Rusty blinked, then shook his head. “No, no, just the smallest one. He was a kitten.” He corrected.

“And they didn’t shred you? I wonder why.” Smudge said thoughtfully.

Rusty looked askance. “I don’t know.” He answered honestly. “They told me to leave. One of them even walked me back to my garden.” He twitched his whiskers. “She even said she would come visit.”

Smudge gawped. “How odd!” He exclaimed. “Are you going to meet her?”

Rusty nodded. “Of course! I have so many questions about her life in the forest.”

“You always were the wildest of all of us.” Smudge commented. “I hope she scares your whiskers off.”

Rusty waited on the edge of the forest for Bluefur every night. Keeping watch for a flash of silver fur, for a flash of light to touch her blue eyes and give her away. But every night he sat alone, or at least was unaware of her company. 

The night did come, at last, when the evening was at its darkest. The gray she-cat emerged from the forest with her tail high. Rusty sprang down from his fence and padded to meet her. “Bluefur!” He said happily. “I was worried you had forgotten.”

Bluefur’s face was grave. “Rusty, would you like to live in the forest?” She asked.

Rusty straightened. “Yes. More than anything.” He swore.

“I have a friend in another clan. They need more warriors in their territory.” She explained. “He’s asked me to extend an invitation for you.” 

“I...” He trailed off. “I wouldn’t get to see you?”

Bluefur hesitated. “I would see you at gatherings, where all the clans meet at the full moon.” She said. “And I’m sure we’d see each other on the border from time to time. This is the best I can do for you, Rusty.”

Steeling himself and swallowing his disappointment, Rusty nodded. “Okay... then I accept.”

“I’m happy to hear it.” Bluefur said kindly. “Now, we’re going to meet him at the river. Follow me.” She told him, padding along parallel to the fence, her gait too fast to be a walk, but slower than a trot. Rusty kept up with difficulty. It was further than he had ever been from his house. She stopped suddenly, and he nearly ran into her. “ThunderClan territory starts here.” She said firmly. “This is treecutplace.”

Rusty widened his eyes, trying to look past Bluefur with no luck.

Bluefur smiled. “No, you can’t see it from here. Come.” She hopped up onto the fence, infinitely more graceful than Smudge ever did, and he doubted Bluefur had walked on a fence before in her life. Rusty followed her, looking at the treecut place in surprise. 

“How do they cut down the trees?”

“No cat knows.” Bluefur said, balancing expertly along the fence with Rusty easily keeping pace behind her. From their vantage point, he could see trees and plains from where they stood to the horizon, a river splitting the land in two. “The river bends around RiverClan territory.” Bluefur said. “That’s where you’re going.”

Rusty nodded, following her as they leapt down. A bridge awaited them. 

Bluefur stood in wait, her eyes sharp as she watched the other side. “Wait here.” She said. “In fact, look,” she gestured with her tail to a tangle of brambles. “Hide there, in case a patrol comes. There’s not one scheduled, but you can never be too sure.”

Rusty obeyed, and by the time he looked out from his hiding place, Bluefur was halfway across the river, her tail held confidently high. She disappeared over the rise, and Rusty stayed hidden in the thorns, his pelt prickling with nervousness. What was he doing? Leaving the comfort of his home to live in the forest? Nevertheless, he straightened his shoulders.

Bluefur climbed back onto the bridge, a glossy-furred tom following her. He was smaller than Lionheart, but still much bigger than any cat Rusty was accustomed to seeing. His muscles pressed against his russet fur, his pale yellow eyes friendly as he spoke with Bluefur.

“Come out, Rusty.” He heard Bluefur call over the roar of the river, and regardless of his fear, he climbed out of the brambles and trotted to meet them. He swallowed, surprised when the strange tom’s eyes widened in surprise.

“He’s small.” The tom said.

Bluefur flicked her ear. “He’ll grow.” She retorted. “Rusty, this is Oakheart, RiverClan’s deputy.” She introduced the red tabby, who dipped his head.

“Very nice to meet you, Rusty.” He said, his voice upbeat and kind. “I heard you wanted to be a wildcat.” He said with a twitch of his whiskers.

Rusty nodded. “Yes.”

Oakheart nodded to Bluefur. “Then you’re welcome to join RiverClan. We always have use for an extra set of paws.” He said kindly. “But, Rusty, this isn’t a decision you should make lightly.” He warned. “I’m offering you training, but there’s no guarantee that you’ll become a warrior. It may prove too difficult for you. In your twoleg nest, you are fed and warm and kept safe, and I can make no such statements for life in the forest.

“The Clan will demand great loyalty and hard work; you’ll be expected to fight for them with your life, if necessary. And there are many mouths to feed, especially in leaf-bare. But the rewards are great: you will be trained in the ways of the wild and learn what it is to be a real cat. The strength and fellowship of the clan come with you, even when you hunt alone.”

Bluefur eyed Rusty thoughtfully. “And if you decide it’s too much of a challenge for you, you can return to your twolegs.”

Oakheart nodded. “And you will not be able to return. You can live in the forest, or you can live with your twolegs. Not both.” He said gravely.

Rusty nodded. “I want to join your clan.” He said to Oakheart, lowering his head.

The sun was beginning to rise behind the two warriors, silhouetting them in morning light. They were both gazing at him inscrutably, before Oakheart nodded. “Good.” He declared after a short pause. “Safe travels back to your clan, Bluefur.” Oakheart purred to the gray she-cat.

“And to you.” She answered, dipping her head to both of them. “Good luck, Rusty. I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“I can’t explain how grateful I am for your help, Bluefur.” Rusty answered.

Bluefur purred. “When you come to the gathering. You can tell me then.” She teased, turning to tread back into ThunderClan territory with a final farewell-wave of her tail.

Oakheart and Rusty watched her go.

“Let’s go.” Oakheart said finally. “The clan will be waking soon.” He encouraged, padding to the opposite end of the bridge without looking to see if Rusty was following. He was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this on Thursday o///o I'm sorry


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late/double post last week. I've never kept myself to an upload schedule and I've also never done a multichapter fic on Ao3 so I am a babby in regards to both of these things. New chapter every Thursday!

The nervous pounding of his heart was back. He wondered how many cats were in RiverClan. What their response would be to him. “Stop fretting.” Oakheart told him, turning to peer at the young orange tom. “You’ll be fine, regardless of what happens. I promise.”

Rusty swallowed and nodded.  _ Focus on something else. _ He told himself. The scent of the river, the way the cattails waved in the breeze and the current, the peaty soil underneath his paws and the sparse, rough grass that grew in odd clumps. “How far is your camp?” He asked.

Oakheart nodded for him to follow, and bounced up onto a rather tall boulder. Rusty complied, his claws scraping on the unfamiliar surface as he found his footing. “Look,” Oakheart gestured with his muzzle towards the river. There was a dip in the earth, surrounded by reeds. “Can you see the cats up already? I can see two from here.” He said.

Squinting, Rusty leaned forward. He couldn’t make out anything from such a distance.

“Come on, then. Let’s go see them.” Oakheart said, hopping down and galloping through the thin trees that seemed to make up the territory. Rusty gasped and sprinted after him. 

The dark tabby moved with liquid grace, his pawsteps heavy but silent as he moved through the undergrowth, and Rusty sprinted with all the grace he could muster after the tom.

They seemed to run across the world itself before Oakheart stopped. Rusty nearly ran into him, but managed to scrape to a halt. “We’re here.” He said. “Are you ready to go in?”

After a moment, Rusty nodded, and Oakheart pushed through the reeds. Rusty followed. The earth beneath their paws was flat from countless seasons of paws pattering over it, and the narrow walls brushed his fur. He emerged in a hollow, Oakheart standing beside him.

The clearing harbored a few cats, but any chatter he’d heard when traversing the tunnel had fallen silent; every cat was staring at him. He kept his head low, his fur burning in something like embarrassment. “Come along.” Oakheart beckoned, leading him forward.

Rusty kept close to the larger tom, casting fleeting glances at the clan cats. A silver tabby with black stripes eyed him with interest, though the dark brown tom beside her had his eyes narrowed with a curious glare. 

“Oakheart?” Rusty looked up: a massive light brown tabby jumped down from a willow tree. The cat was huge, even bigger than Lionheart, with lines on his face that told of a hard life, and his jaw was twisted, as if it had been broken and healed badly. Rusty swallowed harshly. “Who’s this?” The tom’s dark green eyes were fixed on Rusty as he crossed the clearing.

Oakheart shouldered Rusty. “I found him by the barn.” He answered. “He asked to join RiverClan, and I figured that RiverClan could always use extra paws.” He flicked his tail.

“Another mouth to feed!” Said one cat. Rusty turned, seeking the source. A golden, spotted she-cat with unkind yellow eyes. 

Oakheart didn’t heed her at all. The massive tabby gazed down at Rusty still, his long tail swaying behind him. “He’s a kittypet.” He said, his gaze flashing up to Oakheart.

Oakheart stared back defiantly. “And so?”

The tabby flicked his ear. “What makes you think that he’ll be an asset to RiverClan?” He asked coolly. “He doesn’t look like much.”

Rusty flicked his tail, trying with all of his might not to scowl.

“I started chasing him.” Said Oakheart. “And he didn’t flee.” The cats in the clearing mumbled amongst themselves. “He turned and fought. I’ve never seen a kittypet do that.”

“An act of desperation does not make him fit to be a warrior!” The golden cat interrupted once more. The two larger toms turned to look at her as she strode over. “It might even make him stupid. Blind bravery is not to be admired.”

The light brown tom twitched his ear, but stayed silent.

Oakheard lowered his head to speak to Rusty directly. “Leopardfur smells your fear.” He said patiently. “They all do.” Rusty looked around the clearing: every cat was staring at him expectantly. Waiting for him to turn tail and run, maybe. The silver tabby, though, peered at him with curious blue eyes. “If only,” Oakheart continued, “there was a way for you to prove to her, to them all, that you will not be ruled by your fear.”

Rusty blinked, looked up at Oakheart in surprise. The red tom’s eyes were indiscernible when their gazes met.

“And RiverClan is not so desperate as to bring a kittypet into its ranks.” Leopardfur jeered. “His kittypet  _ stink _ will alert our enemies, and his poor, lonesome twolegs will come looking for him, following the sound of his pitiful tinkling.” The cats gathered in the clearing murmured in agreement. The black tom that had been beside Leopardfur the loudest. 

Oakheart’s gaze was silent encouragement. Rusty held his breath, staring at Leopardfur before leaping between the two tabbies and flinging himself onto her. 

The she-cat screeched in shock, losing her footing on the sun-baked earth. Rusty dug his claws into her fur, sinking his teeth into her shoulder. There was no swiping or boxing: Oakheart and the large tom had stepped back and allowed Rusty and Leopardfur the heart of the camp to wrestle and struggle with one another.

Rusty felt no pain, knew no fear, Bluefur’s words ringing in his ears.  _ I think you would be a fine warrior. _ He had to persevere. He could hear cries and cheers through the blood which roared in his ears. 

The exhilaration paused when his collar tightened around his throat. His heartbeat quickened in panic. Inhaling sharply, he pulled in the opposite direction, tumbling away when his collar gave with a snap.

Rusty turned and saw Leopardfur crouched on the ground, blood trickling from a wound on the side of her face, gathering on her chin and dripping onto the collar that hung between her teeth uselessly.

“Enough!” The light tabby bellowed, silencing the onlookers. Leopardfur and Rusty continued to glower at one another, perhaps a moment away from springing on one another again. The big tom took the collar from her and placed it between his paws. “The newcomer has lost his twoleg collar in a battle for his honor. StarClan has spoken its approval - this cat has been freed from the bond of his twoleg owners and is free to join RiverClan as an apprentice.”

Rusty stood straight and dipped his head gratefully to the tom, taking a step forward into a shaft of sunlight that penetrated his fur and eased his sore muscles. A cut over his eye stund madly, and he was sure it was bleeding. Nevertheless, he raised his head proudly and surveyed the clearing. No cat argued or sneered. He’d proven his worth. He was a viable member of RiverClan.

His collar sat before him, unassuming in the dirt. Dismissively, he scraped a few pawfuls of dirt over it and stamped it flat.

The large tom stepped closer, bowing his head slightly. “You fought well, little one.” He said. Rusty blinked up at him in surprise. The other cat’s eyes were thoughtful. “In honor of his flame-colored coat, this apprentice will be named Firepaw.” He declared, turning to face the clan.


End file.
